


Scarlet Hues

by RedSummerRose



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Based on RP, F/M, Fluff everywhere, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSummerRose/pseuds/RedSummerRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hodgepoge of writings about Wanda Maximoff, aka The Scarlet Witch. Mostly headcanon mixed up of Marvel 616, RP-ing, and my own personal thoughts and headcanons on a character I've come to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I am still relatively new to the Marvel fandom, in terms of comics, but I hope the fans reading this will like it. I owe the inspiration and motivation for this to my Tumblr friends, for introducing me to the lovely Scarlet Witch. Hopefully I won't let you guys down too much.

 

 

**  
**

The beginning is hard to locate, as she looks back on the twists and turns that make up her life.

Perhaps it was the whispers of Marya Maximoff, telling her old Romani stories and pressing kisses to her forehead, telling her to keep her brother safe.

Or maybe it was the attack on the camp, tearing her and Pietro away from their family forever, leaving them nomads, refugees.The burning barn marks the beginning of that primal fear, the lesson that taught her that her powers only brought danger and pain. 

Wanda liked to believe the first time she donned the bright red cape, rushing headfirst into a fight alongside the Avengers, that that shining snippet of time was her beginning. Slow to begin, and yet over too soon. The people she met and fought alongside were her family, in a way far different from her bond with her twin brother. If Pietro was her other half, there till the end of her, the Avengers were her center, whole and unchanging.

She has had chances to make lots of new beginnings. Sister, mutant, Avenger, wife, mother, murderer. But if there's anything Wanda Maximoff has learned, in her experiences, is that there's always, always a second chance for a new beginning.


	2. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by A vs X #12, where Wanda and Hope Summers eradicate the Phoenix Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was re-reading the issue, and this idea just wouldn't leave my head until I put it down on paper.

As Scott Summers drains of all power, Wanda knows what comes next.

She watches Hope, feeling the raw, scalding power radiating from the Phoenix's newest host. Wanda knows the feeling well, the force of a thousand suns emanating from her own body, that fateful day when she singlehandedly wiped out millions of mutant lives.

She can hear the fiery young woman's accusations in her ears, back in K'un L'un. "This is your fault, Wanda! This all started because of you!"

And she is right, Wanda's actions hurt so many people. She doubts that the blood she spilt while not in her right mind will never wash away. But that is not Hope's destiny. Hope Summers, she decides is greater than this. If Wanda Maximoff is to be the destroyer of mutants, the witch she took as her namesake, Hope is to be the messiah, the light that returns mutants to the world.

So, she steps forward, telling the girl all she believes. Hope will fix her mistake, but not without Wanda's help.

Taking her hands, Wanda allows all her magic to commingle with the might of the Phoenix Force, saying the three greatest three words she will ever speak.

"No more Phoenix."


	3. Snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Pietro attempt an experiment. Well, Wanda experiments, and Pietro eggs her on, as it were. Either way, their parents are rather surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that while the twins developed their powers at thirteen or fourteen, Django and Marya Maximoff didn't die until a couple years later. Definitely takes place while they're still with their adoptive parents.

 

“Wandaaa, hurry up already. Either get on with it, or let’s go back to the camp.”

 

“Hush, brother. If you want this to happen, please don’t rush me. And stop pacing, it’s distracting.” Wanda shot back, eyes closed in concentration, from her spot on the ground.

 

“You’re too slow, sister.”

 

“Maybe if you stopped running about so much, I wouldn’t seem so slow.”

 

Ever since his powers had emerged, Pietro had been insufferable, zipping back and forth, in and out of tents, all over the Romani encampment. Watching him move so quickly was dizzying, and his startling appearances everywhere he went were beginning to drive Wanda crazy. Mother simply rolled her eyes in loving exasperation, before telling him to slow down.  Father laughed heartily, encouraging his son to test his limits, chasing him as far as he could, before calling him back. They had been patient with their children and the blossoming powers they displayed.

 

“Can you even do it, anyway? This doesn’t sound like something you’ve been able to do before.” Pietro stopped his pacing, scrutinizing his sister.

Wanda’s response was strained, speaking through gritted teeth. “If you’d be quiet for five seconds, maybe I could—“ But before Wanda could finish her thought, a snowflake drifted down past her nose, she had to cross her eyes to see it properly. 

 

“Sister… You did it.” Pietro’s eyes were focused on a point above her head, as more snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky, dusting Wanda’s chocolate curls in ice. She smirked slightly, getting to her feet.

 

“And you doubted me all this time.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, as the twins made their way back to the campsite, their parents waited for them, standing at the edge of the cluster of tents. At the sight of her daughter, Marya choked back a laugh, waving her forward. With his customary whoosh, her son was at her side.

 

“We tried everything, it won’t stop following her around.” The ‘it,’ Pietro was referring to, was a little dark storm cloud, not four feet above Wanda's head, snow tumbling down on her, her dark hair  frosted so thick, it had turned a reminiscent shade of Pietro’s natural silver.

 

Django’s booming, hearty laugh could be heard throughout the entire camp.


	4. Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's perspective in the time between Avengers: Disassembled and the beginning of House of M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got major House of M feels from writing this! \o/

The weeks during her ‘rehabilitation,’ as her father called it, Wanda’s magic made her aware of everything, her powers blurring everything around her into a haze of possibilities and stimulation, picking up on every detail and magnifying it until she was overwhelmed.

Then she would turn to the realities in her head, where things were safe, and calm, under her control. The days where she’d try to reclaim the life she had rebuilt, broken only by Charles Xavier’s efforts to repair her shattered sense of reality. In rare moments, with Charles’ attempts to help, she could focus on small aspects, her father’s voice, the words on a page, and the feel of a blanket under her fingers.

Still, the nights were filled with restlessness, Wanda shook with tears, remembering all she did to her friends, to Vision, hurting them in ways she couldn’t have imagined herself capable of. She could hear them talking, about her condition, could sense her father’s emotions, and knew what had to be done.

When Pietro came, she knew before he did, what her friends and the X-Men were planning.

“It’s the only way, brother. It’s the only way.” Wanda murmured, as if saying it softly enough would make him less angry at the idea. Her death was the solution, and it would take her away from the torment she had subjected herself to.

“I don’t care. I won’t let them, Wanda. You’re my sister, it’s my job to protect you.” They sat on her bed for a long time, a brief snippet of time where she felt whole and safe, before the powers and the destruction, before her life had smoldered to ashes.

Maybe that’s why, when he posed the idea, letting everyone get what they want,  she ultimately went along.

  
There was nothing Wanda wanted more than her family and friends to be happy.


	5. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's reaction to something leaves her terrified, and the Vision very worried. Takes place in that stretch of comics where Pietro is being a jerk and wouldn't speak to Wanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to say that there's a trigger warning here, but I did take some of Wanda's reaction off my own experiences as a person with major anxiety issues. 
> 
> This stems from a headcanon I have that when Magneto rescued Wanda and Pietro from their predicament with the burning barn, it left Wanda with a massive fear of fire.

It is the Vision who notices Wanda’s expression, her face a sickly shade of white and eyes twice their normal size, at the sight of flamethrowers attached to the newest wave of Doom bots. She does her job well however, sending hex bolts at them, the chaotic nature of her magic transforming them to wisps of smoke. The rest of the battle goes quickly after that, Doom apprehended, for now, anyways, and the rest of the Avengers heading back to the mansion.  However, when she doesn’t show up at the post mission briefing, or for dinner that night, Vision decides to investigate.

It takes at least forty-five minutes of searching before he finds her, curled up in a corner of a normally untouched storage room, her crimson cape wrapped around her like a security blanket. She hadn’t even bothered to change from her uniform, asides from the headpiece currently clutched in both hands.

This was clearly a matter better suited for her brother to handle, but as Wanda and Pietro were currently not on speaking terms, it would have been a supremely bad idea to bring him into it.

 _“Wanda… What are you doing in here?”_ Vision’s heart aches, or a synthetic facsimile of it, when she looks up at him, her features flicking from upset to surprised, and back to upset again, tear tracks clear on her cheeks.

“Oh Vizh, I-I’m sorry, I--,“ She shakes her head, pulling her legs up closer to her chest, quite a feat, in the small space she has wedged herself into. Without a word, he phases through the stacks of crates to sit in front of her, one hand on her knee.

“ _Tell me what happened, I have been worried about you.”_ After a good deal of coaxing, Wanda obliges. She tells him of the burning barn in Transia, the multiple incidents of burning things down, long before she had any amount of control over her powers. Chaos magic tended towards fire and its destructive nature, and it left her with a strong phobia of it, as he could clearly see.

“I’m sorry Vizh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really, just a bit… shaken.” Her attempt to reassure him fails as her voice cracks, but Vision does not argue.

Instead, he leans in closer, or as close as possible, given the circumstances, and presses a kiss to Wanda’s forehead. “ _I love you Wanda, I can not help but worry to see you like this.”_ The smile she gives him in return is shaky and unsure, but she doesn’t send him away either.   


	6. Formal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jan does what she does best, and Wanda is grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one part motivated to write some Jan and Wanda bonding, one part desire to write for costume design, and one part to make Wanda have to go on a secret, formal undercover mission, looking fabulous.

“Turn around for me, darling? I think I’ll have to take it in a bit at the bodice and the waist, but other than that, you look gorgeous. Red is _definitely_ your color.”  Jan commented, marking a spot on the silk with tailor’s chalk, flitting around Wanda as she took measurements and adjustments.

In all her life, Wanda was used to many things, and dressing formally was not one of them. Granted, the occasion was for a very important, magically related mission, but she had to look the part. For the greater part of her life, she was accustomed to threadbare hand me downs, things her mother had made by hand, or passed down through other women in the Roma caravans. Even her Scarlet Witch uniform had been cobbled together from her time in the Brotherhood.  

“You do excellent work, dear.  I’m not used to something so lovely.” The dress was exquisite, in a shade of red so deep it could be likened to wine. With a deep ‘V’ plunging almost to her sternum, and sleeves to her elbow, it would be a definite change from her normal uniform. Still comfortable enough to fight in, she had been assured, if the time came for it.

Jan laughed airily, patting her friend’s shoulder as she stepped in front of her, taking in the full image. “Nonsense, Wanda. You’re already beautiful; I just helped out a little. I think, once I make those alterations, you should be set.”

Wanda nodded, before sweeping her friend into a hug. Jan laughed again, before returning the embrace. In her place in the Avengers, Wanda was thankful to have friends such as Jan and Carol. She hoped to keep them for a long time to come.


	7. Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive branches and ice cream, the mending of a friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about Wanda and Carol's friendship, which is something I'm hoping to rectify. Takes place right after the events of A vs X #0, but before #1.

When Wanda returned to New York, after the debacle with Doom and the Avengers, she held fast to her promise of finding her own life. She kept her head down, using magic to disguise herself when running errands, only appearing as the Scarlet Witch for major emergencies. She had a great deal to work through, and the more she stayed away from the people she had hurt, the better. Wanda had much to repent for, and she did that best alone. Only Pietro knew exactly where she lived, and that was because she couldn’t refuse her dear brother.

 

So, when she opened the door to see Carol Danvers in a bomber jacket and jeans, about to knock, Wanda was very surprised.

 

“Carol. How did—“

 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? You gonna let me in?” Before she could reply, Carol stepped in over the threshold, hands in pockets, looking over her shabby apartment.

 

“It does matter, when Scott Summers and Emma Frost turn up on my doorstep. My landlady is a kind woman, I don’t want to cause trouble for her.”

 

“You really think I’d rat you out to the X-Men?” She shook her head, rattling her keys in one hand. “I thought we were friends, Wanda.”

 

She couldn’t help but give the slightest of exasperated looks. “We _are_ friends, dear. I’m simply surprised to see you. I would like to know who told you my address though. Or why you’re here.”

 

Carol shrugged, sidestepping the question again. “ I seem to remember you like ice cream. Thought I’d treat you, after the whole Vision business.” At that, a long, awkward silence stretched out between them. Both had quite a bit to apologize for, from past mistakes as well as present ones.

 

“I do still like ice cream.” Wanda found herself saying, as if extending a verbal olive branch.

 

At that, the blonde brightened. “Great! I know this place, not too far from here, makes a mean Mexican chocolate.”

 

“I’m sold. Lead the way.”  


	8. Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda helps Jan move in, right before Uncanny Avengers #5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for more female friendship!

“You’re a dear, Wanda, for helping me move.” Jan grinned blithely over one shoulder, as she held at least four boxes in both arms, quite a feat, if not for the handy use of Pym particles. Avengers Mansion was helter skelter, members everywhere on a routine Sunday. After heading out to the storage unit where her things had been put after her death, the pair had returned, to get the newly reinstated Avenger settled. Wanda had already moved in, whatever meager possessions transferred from her previous apartment.

 

“Nonsense, that’s what friends are for.” Wanda returned the smile, if somewhat weakly, shifting a bag over her shoulder.

 

Of all her friends, Wanda had missed Jan the most.  It took a long time, to ease back into the hole of her old life. But with Jan’s return from death, or the Microverse, there was a sense of familiarity that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. They had spent a great deal of time together, in the weeks after the Phoenix cataclysm, catching up and spending time together. It felt normal, sipping odd flavors of tea and eating pastries at coffee shops, re-visiting the Met and the MoMA. It was far more normal than either were used to, or were willing to admit to each other, let alone the world.

 

“So, how do you think this new team will work?” Blue eyes twinkled mischievously, as she set the boxes down, stepping back as they resized.

 

Wanda rolled green eyes, letting the duffle slip from her back. “Far be it from me to malign my fellow mutants, but… The X-Men, they bring drama. Drama we shall have to acclimate to, in order to do anything of value.”

 

Jan laughed, ruffling her bangs out of her face. “There’s that Maximoff sense of optimism I like so much. Well, we can handle drama, can’t we? We’ve done it before.”

 

Wanda sobered, just slightly, amusement still writ clear across her face. “United we stand, divided we fall.”  Jan laughed again, stepping over the boxes before looping her arm through her friend’s.

 

“You’ve got that right! Now come on, boxes to unpack and things to organize. I think there are some handsome, helpful, male Avengers that would be willing to help us carry the rest of these.” She tapped one box with the toe of one of her expensive boots, winking slyly.

 

“Now Jan, who needs men, when we have magic?” A wide wave, and Wanda’s magic does its work, a roomful of boxes lined up against one wall in a sheen of crimson.

 

“I missed you, darling.”

 

“And I, you, dear.”


	9. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda wants answers. A meditation on relationship between father and daughter.

She sits and waits, hands curled around the paper cup of coffee, counting and recounting the number of tiles set into the table.

 

If asked who her father was, Wanda would reply with Django Maximoff, the man who raised her until the end of his life. The man with the hearty, booming laugh and the calming, soothing voice, who loved to sing, and laugh with Pietro.  But Django is gone, and in the spot where her true parentage rests is another. A man who has very different ideals, and is quite honestly the last person she expected. But all the same, science and genetics do not lie, and Erik Lehnsherr is her true, biological father.

 

Initially the news was incomprehensible, and one part of her still cannot accept the idea of being related to Magneto. The man who took her and her brother in, gave them purpose and the start in controlling their powers as their father was a stroke of fate Wanda half expected to link back to her chaos magic.

 

Some told her to distance herself, keep away from the Master of Magnetism and the connection to him. One half of her agrees, which is in part, why she keeps the name Maximoff. It is her bond to a life she once knew, away from power or prejudice. But as much as she’d like to, there are questions she needs answered, and Erik is just the man to help her.

 

So she sits, and waits, at an empty chess table in the park, a scarf pulled close over her auburn curls. When he arrives, she sees the silver hair first, and the blue eyes that remind her so much of Pietro. As much as he would loathe admitting it, her brother is the spitting image of their father.

 

“Good afternoon, Wanda.” He sits on the other side of the table, a small box in hand, nodding minimally in greeting. The contents of the box rattle and shake, as he sets it down, sliding the top open to reveal chess pieces, dulled metal worn smooth.

 

“Good afternoon, Father.” She replies, helping to separate black from white, lining up rooks and pawns, the Queen in its rightful place next to the King.

 

“Tell me, child, what made you call me here today?” Curiosity is not an emotion she hears often, not that Wanda has any claim to ‘often.’ She sits back, looking over the rows of game pieces, before folding her hands.

 

“Tell me about my mother.” Wanda asks, and the game begins.  


	10. Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother-son bonding as only the Maximoffs can.

Billy has no idea how he has gotten into this situation. Handcuffed, cut off from magic and locked in a small room, with his magical mother, of all people, because the super villain of the week apparently knows how destructive their magic can be. He is understandably, very freaked out.

 

“Everything will be alright, dear. I promise you that.” Wanda, alternately, is eerily calm, lifting both hands to a spot behind her headpiece, fishing about for something. After a second, she pulls an intricate looking pick from her curls, before fishing a torsion wrench from the bottom of her boot. He can’t help but gape slightly as, with a look of intense determination, the Scarlet Witch begins picking the lock binding his shackles together. 

 

“How—I mean—where—“ Finding himself speechless, Billy gapes, as his mother finally gets the bindings off, smiling softly, a hint of amusement present.

 

“It never hurts to be prepared, darling. A trick I learned long ago.”

 

His inner fanboy reaches new heights of flailing over his favorite Avenger, but Billy files that away, to share with Teddy later.  Instead, he mutters a quick ‘Iwantherhandcuffstobreak’ and the cuffs practically melt away. Wanda smiles again, green eyes filled with pride, and an almost indiscernible amount of heartbreak. Billy notices this, of course, but doesn’t say anything. It would only hurt them both to bring it up, ask questions about his supposed life as her son. And the last thing he wants is to see the sorceress upset.

 

“Well, Wiccan. Let’s show Madame Hydra and her Serpent Society the error of her ways, shall we?” With this, she winks and magic in shades of vermillion glow in the space around her hands. He nods, calling up his own magic to comingle with hers.

 

With a rattle and a rather explosive bang, the door flies off its hinges, and two very dangerous Maximoffs re-enter the fray.


	11. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic must be learned. Wanda does her best to teach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This flows out of a headcanon I have that Wanda would be an excellent teacher to the younger magic users in the marvel universe. It also got way out of hand, in terms of length, but I'm oddly pleased with it.

Despite everything she had done, despite the instability and havoc her powers played on her life, Wanda Maximoff could lay claim to a great deal of knowledge over the arcane arts, in ways far different to Illyana Rasputina, Stephen Strange or Jericho Drumm. With her lifetime of experience, and the tutelage of Agatha Harkness, however misguided, Wanda had the potential to teach anyone the skills she had mastered as a sorceress.

 

That is, if anyone trusted her enough to do so.

 

Billy did; of course, she could see the unabashed trust in her spiritual son’s eyes, the faith he had in her. She helped as much as she could, and attempted to ignore the twinge of pain that pulled at her heart to see that faith from him. Despite everything, he trusted her, enough not to warp his magic, to use it against anyone. It was more, than she thought she deserved. Nevertheless, she taught him, all the tricks and manipulations she knew to twist and pluck at the strings of probability, to channel the swirls of chaos lying just underneath their fingers, to make some sense of the gift within their genes.

 

One day, however, she was surprised to see another person standing beside her son, a girl with dark hair and a suspicious expression, magical energy palpable about her and the gauntlet barely covered by her coat.

 

Billy looked between the two, before speaking up. “Uhh, Wanda, this is a friend of mine, Nico. Nico, this is the Scarlet Witch, she’s… my mom, I guess. I was hoping you could help her with some magic stuff?”

 

She knows that name, its come up offhandedly before, when he’s mentioned his other friends.  Wanda can’t help but say yes, the girl is distrustful, for good reason, and in need of some magical guidance. She sees so much in Nico Minoru that would have appeared in herself if not for Pietro. So the two of them train under Wanda’s careful hand, and they grow in skill, by leaps and bounds. She is pleased to see the two young mages compete, and help each other in their own ways.

 

When the X-Man Pixie appears at her apartment one ice-cold night, looking for some assistance with her teleportation magic, Wanda obliges, although not before making Megan Gwynn promise not to tell Scott Summers or Emma Frost. The last thing she needs is for two angry mutant leaders to appear at her door, accusing her of abduction.

 

The teens grow closer, and the Scarlet Witch finds herself in the position of mentor, something else she did not expect. She sits with Nico over a cup of tea, not prodding or prying, but she senses the girl letting down barriers, in sitting together with an adult, and not being betrayed in the process. Pixie is a ball of cheer and energy, full of questions and curiosity, with pain and hurt right below the surface. Wanda does her best to be there for all of them, she knows how magic makes everything more confusing.

 

And in their ways, the three young mages under her care give her something back. Whether it is stability or comfort, Wanda can’t really put her finger on it. But she is grateful for it, all the same.


	12. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Luna. A reunion post Children's Crusade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read Son of M very briefly and haven't read much of FF. Please don't hate me for my portrayal of Luna.

After Wanda had regained her memories, she learned what she had missed, in the years of anonymity and amnesia. How her old world had turned as she went on without it, the aftermath of her magical breakdown, the three little words that changed everything. She learned of the wars, the siege, and the catastrophes that plagued the world in her absence.

What broke her heart most was what she learned of Pietro’s attempts to restore the mutant race, after her magic had done its work.

 

In his normal manner, her brother had attempted to make amends, using the Terrigen Crystals in order to fix her mistakes. The consequences had nearly torn her family apart, once again. The whole incident was distressing, but what hurt most, in a way different than Pietro’s despondency over her disappearance, was what he had done to his daughter. Luna, the innocent in all this, had her life changed by her father’s stubborn pride. One part of her refused to believe her brother would subject such a sweet child to that kind of life, burdened by gifts she might not have wanted.

     

After learning of this, Wanda had ventured to the Future Foundation, to have a chat with her niece. Luna had hugged her tight, murmuring words of sympathy to her aunt as she sat in her lap. She detailed her day-to-day life, and they sat together for a long time, comfortable in the silence and the calming motions of Wanda’s hand smoothing over her hair.

 

Luna didn’t wear her glasses much anymore, already attempting to maneuver the storm of emotions she could now see clearly. But before Wanda left, her niece had hugged her, whispering in her ear, in the voice Wanda had only just remembered, but already treasured.

 

“Don’t feel too sad, Aunt Wanda.  Papa did the best he could.” And that, despite Luna’s heeding, made Wanda’s heart sink.


End file.
